


if only i could

by streimel



Category: Infinite (Band)
Genre: M/M, angst I guess?, post-Infinite au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-08
Updated: 2015-12-01
Packaged: 2018-04-30 14:34:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5167454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/streimel/pseuds/streimel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Myungsoo learns how hard it is to put together a puzzle when pieces are missing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> song title taken from Daydream - Sunggyu ft. Tablo and Jongwan
> 
> if you want my full emo playlist for this, I also suggest:
> 
> 12 Seconds - Nell  
> Afterglow - Nell  
> 백야 - Nell  
> Slip Away - Nell  
> Bad - Tablo  
> Clarity - Zedd ft. Foxes  
> Hello - Adele  
> You Could Be Happy - Snow Patrol

It's been exactly two years, four months, and thirteen days since all of them were in the same exact room (not that he's kept count.)

He's seen (most of) them in the meantime. Sungyeol practically lives at his house; Sungyeol nearly spends more time there than he does. Sungjong always meets up with him, whenever he's in the country. Woohyun used to drag him to all sort of functions, at least until he and Jisun got hooked up and Woohyun didn't have time for anything in the world except Park Jisun and her long, long hair and beautiful smile and and and (that's all he remembers of Woohyun during the last two years or so, just an endless stream of consciousness of the 'goddess incarnate' he managed to make fall in love with him). And then Howon, well, he sees Howon here and there, mostly at tv and film award shows or occasionally a bar tucked in the back alley of some unpopulated neighborhood where they can talk over an ever-growing pile of soju bottles. Dongwoo's there too, really busy but never far from his mind, coming out of the woodwork every five or six months to collect him in a great big bear hug whenever they have a moment or two to sit down over coffee.

They're all there in his phone, some of them daily (Sungyeol, and Woohyun too, at least nearly daily) and some of them rarely, but still at the end of his fingertips, just a button away. He's certainly drunk-dialed them all, ended up on the phone with Howon and Sungjong until the early hours of the morning laughing and crying about all the good times they had. Because he loves them, he's really tried to keep in touch and, surprisingly, they've tried with each other too, and it's the best possible scenario he could have imagined, that they still care even years after they last bowed on stage together.

Well, mostly.

He sees Sunggyu, too; just, it's never in person. He sees him on TV, on some show he's a judge of now, a recent incarnation of the usual attempt to find the latest and greatest undiscovered act. Then there's the billboard right outside his building they put up a few months ago, some alcohol company, if he remembers correctly; he never really pays attention to what Sunggyu's selling now, just the way his eyebrow crooks up in the way he remembers so very well from at least 10, 11 years ago when they'd just met and Sunggyu used to watch his practicing like a hawk. He can barely make it through the show Sunggyu's doing, because it's just too familiar, the words he says to those kids seemingly stolen from his memories. He used to think he was special, the way that Sunggyu wrapped an arm around his shoulder and said "you've worked really hard, I'm proud of you", but even that wasn't just between them.

None of it was.

One year and two weeks after the last time Sunggyu says a word to him, his make-up artist says "why didn't you tell me your hyung is dating?" and he thinks it's all a big joke. He chokes out a snort, waiting for her facade to fall, but she drops her phone in his lap, Sunggyu's half-shielded face and a woman ducked behind him standing out over a headline about the breaking news, soloist Kim Sunggyu found to be dating some rising model, and the clock of his heart stops ticking for a moment before lurching to life again. The woman's hands freeze on his shoulders, belatedly realizing her misstep, but he shakes himself back into breathing, handing her phone back casually. "We actually haven't spoken in a while," he laughs off, but she knows it's all wrong, and he closes his eyes, pretending to fall asleep until she's finished.

His phone call with Sungyeol later is painfully obvious, no matter how hard he edges around it with precarious steps. "So, funny thing this morning, I saw he was dating?" he tries to play off casually, and he can hear Sungyeol breathing on the other end of the line, evenly and then a great sigh before he answers.

"I thought you were over this, Myungsoo. You haven't mentioned him in months."

It's true, he hasn't mentioned Sunggyu in seven months and seventeen days. That day he had brought it up again, his and Sunggyu's last conversation, and did, maybe, did he ever mention him to Sungyeol? and Sungyeol had snapped, turning on him quick as lightning.

"Stop. Just stop talking about him! He's obviously trying to not reach out to you, Myungsoo. And I'm sick of it, Woohyun's sick of it, Sungjong is sure as shit sick of it. Find something else to talk about. It's done, realize that and move on."

In the past, that would have been enough to start a real fight, one serious enough that they'd push at each other, screaming, lashing out until they saw blood and stopped, feeling the heavy thud of regret and disgust in their bellies. It probably would have, if they'd been face to face. In a way, it would have been a better response than the one he gave, his quiet "okay, yeah" before letting it drop, making excuses to why he had to go, but the shock of Sungyeol's outrage had twisted his tongue, making the words catch in the back of his throat.

Now, he feels shame creep up his neck, Sungyeol's judgement rare but not always undeserved, and he second-guesses if his feelings are true or a twisted fantasy he's created. All he wants, and he ever wanted, was an explanation, some inclination of what happened, what was still happening for him, and as much as he tries, he can't find a reason for Sungyeol, not one that sounds valid even to himself. He's not over it, not even close despite the time and distance, and that's the worst part of it all.

* * *

He doesn't hear the door open or shut, so spaced off into another dimension consisting solely of thoughts of the future, but he feels a presence wash over his back, creeping up his spine until he can't help but turn to see who's come in. There are only so many people, a few left to say their parting words, and it almost surprises him that he didn't realize that, of course, it's him.

"Hyung."

One time, Sungyeol had said "I don't get how no one else sees it" and he hadn't understood. "The way you call him hyung," Sungyeol had went on, like it were obvious. "Like, when you call him hyung, it's...weird. I don't know. It's so subtle but there's the tiniest bit of longing, or awe, or both."

Of course, Sunggyu had noticed. He knows Sunggyu noticed, because he knows he did it just now, Sunggyu's nostrils flaring just a bit, his pupils growing a bit bigger, but he's never realized until now that Sunggyu always hesitates when he says it like that. Like it affects him, too.

"Myungsoo."

There's no invitation in his tone, no call or beckoning, but he still desperately wants to rush over, dig his nose into the spot between Sunggyu's collar bones, breathe him in because he won't be able to do this anymore, wrap his arms around him and learn the ways his muscles feel when they move under his arms because now there's no more reasons for him to do so, no more urgency for fan service, no more excuses for his actions. In a moment, Sunggyu's going to say what he says and open that door and then it's done, it's completed. They'll always be Infinite, but they'll never be like this again.

"I'm so proud of you-" Sunggyu says, and his breath catches in his throat, because this isn't what he expected, not this, Sunggyu cannot do this to him.

Sunggyu pauses, and he knows something's giving him away, maybe a trembling lip or lowered eyes, he's not even sure what he's doing anymore because he can't  _think_  when Sunggyu's doing this to him. "-uhm, yes," Sunggyu continues, looking anywhere but his face. "You've worked so hard, Myungsoo. You were always just...just Myungsoo. My hard working kid. Always pushing yourself. Always following your dreams. Doing what you needed for yourself and for us. Myungsoo...Myungsoo. My good boy."

He sees it coming, as surprising as it is, sees Sunggyu get closer and closer out of the corner of his eye, and he throws himself into it with abandon, latching on to Sunggyu as soon as he's within reach. He's so desperately needy, unabashedly so, and he presses up into Sunggyu with all his might. He feels like a bucket with a hole, the pouring in of love never enough to fill it to the brim before it all goes out again, and he tries as best as he can to cover the hole with this moment, to patch it up just long enough to be full once.

"Hey, hey, look at me," Sunggyu says, fingers under his chin to nudge his head up. "I want you to listen to me. No, eyes up here. Look at me, Myungsoo. You've always listened to me, don't start changing that now."

It takes him a moment, because he's afraid of what he might see on Sunggyu's face. Perhaps Sunggyu will laugh at his pitifulness, judge him for his tears, feel awkward because of his clinginess. Maybe he'll change his heart, abandon this goodbye and turn and leave, and Myungsoo needs every minute of this like he needs air.

Instead, Sunggyu's eyes are soft, if distant. He searches for some trace of longing or a hint of need, something that will keep Sunggyu here for just a moment longer, but if it's there, Sunggyu's done a damn fine job of hiding it away. Sunggyu's giving him exactly what Sunggyu thinks he needs, and it makes his stomach roll with something akin to distress.

"You're going to leave here and you're going to keep going, got it? I want to see you on my television, I want to read about you in the news, I want you to continue bringing success to the name of Infinite. We still have a reputation to maintain. You're going to go out there and take what you deserve. You're not going to let people use you. You're not going to settle for less than you deserve. You're going to do what you love to do, and you're going to enjoy your life and everyone in it while you do that, because I'm trusting you to keep surrounding yourself with people who cherish you. Am I being understood?"

Sunggyu's words come out fiercely at the end, strained through clenched teeth, and Myungsoo sees the tears in his eyes that he's trying to hold back and he just can't take it, the absolute desperation in the clutch of Sunggyu's fingers, holding his face so tightly it almost hurts. He's a wreck when he manages to get out a broken "Sunggyu", tears running down into the corners of his lips so he tastes them on his tongue, but Sunggyu doesn't relent, pushing him even harder.

"Promise me, Myungsoo! Goddamit, promise me you will be happy and nothing less."

He doesn't see Sunggyu's face when he nods his head as hard as possible, eyes blurred until Sunggyu's a mess of colors and light before him, but Sunggyu pulls him close again, embrace far beyond the point of comfort but exactly what he wants; hard enough to leave an imprint that cannot be removed, a remaining fragment of Sunggyu etched down into his skin as a permanent reminder of this moment.

Time stops for a moment, or perhaps a thousand moments, his heaving chest pressed to Sunggyu's barely moving one, heartbeats the only sign life continues on. And then he feels it, the slow breakaway, Sunggyu's warmth pulling away, out of his arms, and he cringes at himself when he digs into Sunggyu's arms, a physical manifestation of a mental inability to let go.

"Don't go, stay here and hold on to me."

It's such a pathetic, dramatic attempt at gaining some reaction, using Jongwan's words to provoke Sunggyu into giving him one more look, one more sentence, one more second of time, but Sunggyu pulls away gently and firm, hands behind his back as if to prevent something he might regret.

"Don't forget, remember me, keep it, treasure it," Sunggyu returns with a sad smile, and then he turns his back, the end of this game they played for years finally complete.

He manages to keep it together until the door closes, and he knows Sunggyu can hear him as he walks down the hall, loud, uncontrollable sobs tearing through his chest even as he presses his hands into his face, covering his mouth in a poor attempt at some control. The heavy, gasping heaves for air calm down after an eternity, but he's still sobbing consistently when Howon finds him later. Howon doesn't say a word, just props him under one arm, head pressed into his shoulder and soothing hand up and down his back. He knows why and how Sungyeol manages to arrive shortly after, and he allows the two of them to pull him to his feet, get him into an elevator and down to Howon's car, and up, up, up to his brand new penthouse. Not unlike being drunk, they prop him up with their arms, his feet pathetically dragging along the tile across the living room to his bedroom, and deposit him as gently as possible (which is to say, by their estimations, not so gently at all) on to his big, new, wide, empty bed.

He's not exactly thinking about surroundings at the moment, but there is an instant feeling of lacking as they step back, and new, hot tears drip down the sides of his face under the fingers he presses into his eyes.

"Don't go."

He's never been afraid to fulfill his need for intimacy, through stolen hugs or tightly squeezed hands, but now it seems like he'll die if he's left alone, and Sungyeol and Howon merely glance at each other before climbing on to the bed to encircle him in a warm, safety net of love. The tears don't end, but Sungyeol's hands on his back ease the stream, and he falls asleep, Howon's hands squeezing his.

The headache wakes him up with a sick sense of misery. He's alone, a bottle of water, two painkillers, and a handwritten note the only traces someone else was here before. It's Howon's looped writing, telling him to go back to sleep after taking the pills, and he smiles at Sungyeol's own scribbles, a hastily added "XOXOXO luv u" amended to the end. He downs half the bottle before falling back into the sheets, wondering just what in the hell he's supposed to do now.

* * *

Eight months after his make-up artist tears up the remaining fragments of dreams he had held about whom exactly Sunggyu really loved, he finds himself sitting in the make-up chair again, a scene of chaos reflected in his mirror as producers and stylists run around behind him. This isn't the first time he's been to a drama awards ceremony, but it's his first time presenting an award, his pre-scripted introduction speech sitting on cards in his lap, words meant to reflect his life, the dual-sided coin of actor and musician that connects him to this award, written by someone else's hand.

The nominees are typed out in bolded letters, carefully printed to prevent an accidental mispronunciation that might cause a public embarrassment. It's a grab-bag of names, veterans and newly debuted kids and right in the middle, Sunggyu's name laughs up at him from the page.

Of course, he's heard the song; it's on his computer, his handphone, put on repeat at 3 am when he wants to especially torture himself. The drama it came from was just okay, but everyone had applauded Sunggyu's dark, desperate vocals, a crooning melody asking "remember how we were? I want to go back, too." It had stabilized in the middle of the top 10 for weeks, and he could barely go out to buy paper towels or soap or onions from the store without Sunggyu's voice following him down the aisles.

For a moment, he had wondered what would happen if he threw the results. At first, he had daydreamed calling any name but Sunggyu's, to vindicate his own misery. And then the thought had crept in, the idea forming that if he called Sunggyu's name, Sunggyu would come to him, would make his way to the stage and be obligated to look him in the eyes, to acknowledge him at all. He wondered if he called his name, even if it weren't on the card, would he get in trouble? Would the directors issue an apology, or would they be trapped into concealing the truth? Had anyone intentionally said the wrong name before?

Would it be worth it, just for a moment of Sunggyu's time?

His initial thought was a resounding "yes", yelled in his head from some deep, twisted part of him he never knew existed. It was idiotic daydreams, but his mind had returned to them in the weeks preceding the event. Every scenario drawn out in his mind, Sunggyu rushing to the stage and embracing him, Sunggyu cold and formal, barely glancing his way before leaning into the microphone to offer his thanks. Maybe Sunggyu wouldn't even win, but they'd see each other in the audience, and, forced by social niceties and surrounded by a crowd expecting them to be close, Sunggyu would be trapped into looking his way, into saying his name.

He managed to avoid the sense of disgust he should have had with himself through sheer denial. Sunggyu had made a choice, for reasons unknown but reasons nonetheless, to create a distance between them, and here he was, almost driven to tears at the expectation Sunggyu might be forced to give him a smile to avoid public scrutiny. That it would be worth it for him, if Sunggyu so much as looked his way to keep up appearances.

Now, in the wings of the stage, the idea makes him want to throw up the meal (or lack thereof) he intentionally skipped to avoid this dilemma in the first place. He hasn't seen Sunggyu yet, but he knows he's here, and he knows in a few minutes he might very well be facing him for the first time in almost two years.

He stares at the teleprompter with a well-honed look that makes it seem like he's making eye contact with the crowd and not reading off a screen and enunciates his diatribe carefully, executing the joke put in carefully and waiting for the ripples of laughter to subside before announcing the category. He rocks back on his feet as the edited video rolls, Sunggyu's vocal crescendo overlaid on scenes of two characters kissing in the rain. The house lights come back up, spotlight on his face, and he slides his thumb under the seal, murmuring into the microphone with his cat-like smile "the winner is..."

It's only after the wave of laughter he realizes he said "hyung?" out loud, and he tries to rectify it immediately, a "Sunggyu hyung" and then "Kim Sunggyu-ssi!" finally. The crowd is laughing, but it's good-natured; they find it endearing, that he's presenting an award to his leader, his supposed friend, but their laughter just makes him more nauseous. He stares at the ground, knowing Sunggyu's walking down the aisle, up the steps, getting closer, and he can't help but look up when Sunggyu slides one hand around his shoulder while taking the trophy out of his grip, subtle, professional smile sent his way. The usher behind him taps at his arm, waiting to escort him off to the side, but he feels frozen, watching Sunggyu's back as he accepts the award.

He's still standing there, unable to move, and Sunggyu turns around so casually, like it's totally normal for him to still be waiting right there. Sunggyu slides an arm around his waist, leading them off with the usher scurrying behind him. It's so, so familiar, the way Sunggyu fits around him so perfectly, and he trips over his feet off the stage, eyes glued to Sunggyu's face as opposed to where he's going.

Sunggyu doesn't let go, even as he bows to the people milling around backstage, congratulating him for his victory, and he keeps allowing himself to be led, down this hallway and that, into a room Sunggyu peeks into and swiftly locks behind them after pushing him inside.

"Well, hi."

He doesn't know what to expect, but it's certainly not  _that_. Sunggyu is staring at him like he doesn't know whether to scream or laugh, and there an agitation in Sunggyu's whole body as he exhales, hand running up to fix his bangs in a nervous flutter. He stares blankly, waiting for something to happen and dreading what may come. It takes him a moment to realize they're both at a complete loss of words, and he shifts his weight, suddenly unsure of everything that has happened in the last few minutes, much less the last few years.

There's a blossoming sort of dread growing within him when Sunggyu rushes him, arms wrapped tight around his body in a vice grip, and after dying every day, wanting this for just one more moment, he can't stop his hands from pushing at Sunggyu's arm, feet sliding against the floor in his effort. Sunggyu drops his arms in a second, eyes clouded with confusion, and he does good just not to scream.

"Don't do this to me- why would you do this to me?" he asks, bewildered. Sunggyu's reasonings suddenly have clarity, trying to save him by not making him live this scenario every time they met, every time they talked. Sunggyu had thought about him, trying to help him, but now it seems like he's relighting the flame intentionally, throwing gasoline on just to watch it consume. "Don't you have a girlfriend to go back to? Don't you have a life now, that doesn't include me? Please, please, don't do this to me."

Sunggyu's face is so twisted in pain he can't help but choke on the unshed tears burning painfully in the back of his throat, and Sunggyu opens his mouth to speak without any words coming out. He's finding it hard to breath, the weight of the situation and the hurt plastered across Sunggyu's face a suffocating force on his chest. He's so, so upset, but not solely through the sadness of this whole moment; he's angry, so angry at Sunggyu, in how careless he is, how little he thought about what he was doing.

Sunggyu stares at him for another moment, a look on his face he doesn't recognize and can't decipher, and when he turns to leave this time, he doesn't make a move to stop him. Sunggyu hesitates at the door, perhaps waiting for it to happen, and then it opens and closes without a sound, as if Sunggyu had never been there in the first place.

This time, he doesn't cry.

* * *

Four hours and thirty-six minutes after the show ends, Myungsoo is sitting on the cold tile floor of Sungyeol's apartment, Sungyeol's warm cat fighting being ignored as it bumps against the inanimate hand laying on his thigh. Neither of them are speaking, but for once, the silence is anything but comfortable.

Maybe it was the fact that when he had punched in the door code and thrown it open, Sungyeol hadn't been surprised to see him there. Or perhaps it was when Sungyeol had whispered "I know" and meant it while he had collapsed in his arms, hysterical. But in reality, it probably was when Sungyeol's face had been remorseful when it had all clicked, when he had began wondering just how exactly what Sungyeol knew, why he seemingly had prepared for this to happen. That's probably the exact moment that sent him off into a spiral.

The accusation is heavy in his words. "You've talked to him. You talked to him about me!" Sungyeol's face doesn't change, which makes him even more furious, because it would twist up if he felt he was being wrongly accused. Sungyeol knew this was going to happen, because Sunggyu told Sungyeol about it, and how dare they speak about him without him knowing.

Sungyeol's arms stay heavy by his sides the first time he pushes him, steadying himself against the wall he's pushed into the second time, and Sungyeol lets him scream and scream and scream without saying a word. It's only when Howon comes in, pulling him off of Sungyeol so casually he can't help but think Howon was also prepared for this tonight, that he finally allows himself to collapse on the floor in a heap, infuriated and confused and just so fucking  _destroyed_.

"I hate you," he says, not sure at first if he means Sunggyu, Sungyeol, or himself. Sungyeol crouches down into his line of vision, and suddenly Sungyeol seems as good as anyone to hate. "I hate you so much. I hate that it worked out for you so well, so easily, like a fucking movie. I hate that talked to him. I hate that you talked to him  _about me_. I hate that you never told me you talked about me. I hate that you never told me he still cared. I hate that you told me not to talk about him. I hate that you did all that shit thinking it would help me, but I'm still here after all this time and I still feel the same fucking way, so thanks for nothing."

He pauses for a minute, off-handedly constructing more things in his mind he hates about Sungyeol, and Sungyeol, perhaps thinking he's done, starts trying to explain.

"He asked me not to bring him up to you-"

He has no patience for this right now. "Who's best friend are you?" he yells, watching Sungyeol clench fists (this is the Sungyeol he knows). "Who's side are you even on?"

"It's not a  _war_ , Myungsoo."

"Like hell it is!"

"What did you want from me? To tell you everything? 'Hey, what's up, went apartment hunting today and, oh yeah, by the way, Howon and hyung and I went out and got drunk and hyung spent the night at our house after breaking down into tears and crying about you for three hours about how he feels like a monster for abandoning you and how he breaks apart every time he hears your name and-"

"Sungyeol," Howon says, leaning against the door frame, ever his immovable self; he sees the slight dip of Howon's head, and Sungyeol sits back on his heels without continuing, seemingly admonished. He adds another thing to his list, detesting the way Howon and Sungyeol speak to each other without speaking, secret glances a sign of intimacy greater than he's ever experienced.

"You think I can't handle it?" he asks, watching their silent debate go back and forth, and before Sungyeol can get his words out, Howon says as if it's obvious, "yeah, that's exactly what I think." He turns his head away from Howon's pointed look and Sungyeol's apologetic one, feeling jaded.  _They don't understand_ , he reconciles to himself.  _They don't know what it's like_. He tells himself he doesn't care about their opinions, but he asks anyways, out of a sheer lack of knowing what else to do.

"Since you think your actions are in my best interests, what are you suggesting I should do then?"

Another look passes between Howon and Sungyeol, and Sungyeol nods slowly, as if letting the idea sink in. Sungyeol's face is haggard, and a fleeting image of Sungyeol constantly worrying over him and Sunggyu blossoms in his mind. He's just too angry to let it ease his anger, but he does pull himself up, waiting for Sungyeol to say what he wants to say.

"You should do what will make you happy, Myungsoo. Do what gives you peace, whatever that is."

* * *

Everything feels more uncomfortable in the dark of Sungyeol and Howon's guestroom; the sheets rasp against his skin when he turns over, the tag of some borrowed sleep pants of Howon's digging into his back. The air conditioning might as well not even be running, considering the heat of the room, and he kicks off the blanket in frustration, muttering to himself dangerously. Nothing will be right, under any circumstances.

Sungyeol and Howon are murmuring to each other in the kitchen still; it had taken them an enormous effort to convince him to stay, and Sungyeol's face as he had closed the door behind him had shown the toll. It had finally wiggled into his brain enough to make his stomach sink, Sungyeol's sheer will and the lengths he had gone to protect him; like everything else tonight, it created a deep sense of unease within him. The only reason he had stayed to begin with was the discomfort he felt at himself, an unwillingness to go back to an empty apartment and fight his demons alone. He wouldn't talk to either of them tonight, but their presence in the other room, the whispers of their quiet talking and someone washing the last dishes in the sink before turning in for the night reminded him of home, a real home. Usually, that would be enough to lull him off to sleep, but sleep seems impossible to him tonight.

He turns on his side, pressing the button of his phone and watching it illuminate the room; he stares at the picture on the nightstand, five of them on Jeju, a trip meticulously and aggravatingly scheduled. Everyone but Sungjong, off on some photo shoot in Japan and Sunggyu - where had Sunggyu been? He hadn't believed Sungyeol's excuses for Sunggyu absence, but now, he wonders if any of them had even extended an offer. Had it always been him or Sunggyu? Were they all in on it, too?

The backlight goes out, and he presses the button again, this time keying the numbers of his passcode in. His fingers fiddle against the sheets next to the phone, unsure of what his heart is insisting he do, but he grabs the phone in a second, dialing in a number long ago deleted but never forgotten.

The regret kicks in in a second, and his thumb hovers over the red button, debating hanging up. A hope, that perhaps Sunggyu long ago changed his number, yearns in his stomach, but before he can think on it more, he hears a surprisingly alert "hello?" for almost 4 am. It's so different from the voice he heard just a few hours ago, and it takes two more hellos before his mouth works again.

"Hyung."

It comes out like it always did, the longing maybe just a little more sad, and Sunggyu sighs heavily into the phone, the sound loud and grating against his ear. He has no will or ability to speak, and it takes more than a minute before Sunggyu says anything.

"First of all, I'm sorry," Sunggyu says, sounding nervous. "I mean, I guess, I just-"

"I didn't call...I wasn't expecting you to- I mean, that is..." he stutters, feeling nervous himself at Sunggyu's nervousness, and he knows he sounds like an idiot, but then again, so does Sunggyu.

"Oh?"

"I don't want to talk. On the phone! What I mean is, is, uhm, will you meet up with me?"

Sunggyu's hesitation seems to suffocate him more with every second, and there's a deep hum on the other line. The risk here is infinite; if they meet again, two years of trying to move on are undone. Last time they ended on terms that signified an end, a completion. If they try now, it could rip them apart.

But, his mind justifies, it's been two years, and he's not any closer to moving on than he was since the first day he looked over at him and his heart bloomed with the realization he was in love with Kim Sunggyu. He had tried to explain, to Sungyeol and Sungjong and Woohyun, the undying devotion was a sign it was really love, but they had brushed him off, told him it would pass and he would meet someone else. But he wouldn't be lying on this bed, one hand knotted in the sheets and the other holding on the phone at his ear for dear life is some part of this wasn't real.

"Okay. Okay, yeah, let's meet. Sunday?"

"Sunday's no good. Tuesday night?"

"I record on Tuesdays. Uhm, Thursday? I get done at like...11:30?"

"Thursday, Thursday...I think my schedules finish at like 1:30 in the morning?"

"I'll be awake."

"Okay. Where should we meet?"

"Just call me when you're ready. I'll come to you."

There's nothing more to say, and Sunggyu hangs up without a goodbye, a leftover fragment of a memento he recalls from all their phone calls for years. His hands drop to the bed, phone bouncing out to lay beside his open palm, and for the first time in hours, he can breath. He picks up the phone again, looking at his list of recent calls, the familiar number on top again after so long. He pushes the button, prompting him to edit, and his fingers hover over what to input into the field. He's tempted to be dramatic, perhaps just a broken heart emoticon, but instead, he types a single 'S' and hits save. He couldn't forget the number if he tried, but seeing the name there again after so long makes his heart race in a way he finds almost exhilarating.


	2. Chapter 2

He gets home at nearly two in the morning, barely kicking off his shoes before his phone is vibrating in the back pocket of a pair of jeans he stole from the set, not even changing in his hurry to rush home. Realistically speaking, there's only one person it would really be. He doesn't say hello when he picks up.

"You're home."

It's not a question, but a statement. He looks over his shoulder, a leftover habit from so many years of people just suddenly appearing when he didn't want them there. Stalking's never been on his list of things that are endearing, even if it's Sunggyu.

"Yes, I - I'm sorry, are you outside of my house?"

It could have gone much more simply than it actually does. Instead, there's a pause before Sunggyu drawls out an unsure "yeah", like a child caught doing something they know they shouldn't.

His throat swallows audibly, and he wonders idly if Sunggyu senses his reluctance. "Well, uhm, come to the gate. I'll buzz you in."

He watches Sunggyu walk up the stone path from the gate door, looking every bit of his regal self in a long black coat that would seem out of place if Sunggyu weren't so damn good at using clothes to cover his insecurities. He looks tall, taller than he really is, and confident. Even when Sunggyu stands before him, eyes steady under choppy bangs, he feels like he's the smaller one here. He opens the door wider to allow for Sunggyu's entry, and locks it behind him when Sunggyu steps inside. It's real now; this is happening.

"It's gorgeous in here," Sunggyu says by way of greeting, hand sliding against the tile backsplash in the entryway he had just put in last week as they move into the house. "Sungyeol said you redid almost everything."

"Hm."

Sunggyu must have expected a more in-depth answer, and he hesitates, catching his balance before finding something else to say. "Nothing's black, I see," Sunggyu tries, drawing out a forced laugh, but he shrugs as a response.

"Bedroom is."

"Ah."

Sunggyu pulls back the curtains, looking outside the glass sliding door and taking in the view. "Wow, you have a backyard and everything."

"Yeah. For the dog."

Sunggyu nods without looking his way, eyes apparently entranced by the lit footpath he and Sungyeol had put down when he moved in. "Can I go outside?"

"Sure. Just be careful if you get to the fence."

"Why? Is it not safe?"

"The street's right below it. There are- people can see."

Sunggyu moves to turn away from the door with a start, pulling the curtains fully closed as he does. Sunggyu stares at the new cabinets in the kitchen, fingers flitting over stone countertop in what he knows is poorly-controlled nerves. "You're like the guy in The Notebook," Sunggyu says as an observation, before laughing at the thought.

He doesn't follow Sunggyu's pattern of thought, or the humor in it. "Why do you say that?"

"You know..." Sunggyu says, gesturing his hands around obviously, "just like, building up the house to distract yourself from being in love, I guess?"

It cuts deep, only because the very reason he spent hours awake, pulling up floors and tearing out 40-year-old wood panels is the man standing right in front of him, acting as if it were  _funny_. Sunggyu's casualness, all the little comments as if two years and everything that happened in that time were just water under the bridge, makes his stomach turn.

"Is this a game to you?" he asks, and Sunggyu's slow to turn and meet his eye.

Sunggyu's weathered his temper before, so it's not a surprise when he doesn't give in, but he sees regret behind Sunggyu's eyes. Something in the back of his head reminds him Sunggyu undoubtedly has no idea where to begin, but it still doesn't excuse whatever it is he's doing now.

"If you want to joke about this, just leave," he says with force, aggravated at the irritation he can't shake, aggravated at Sunggyu's insensitivity.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean-" Sunggyu tries, and they stare at each other before Sunggyu shifts his weight, looking unsure. "Should we sit down?"

Sunggyu follows him to the living room, not unlike a ghost that haunts him silently down the hall, quiet but undoubtedly there. All the excitement within his veins has flooded out into planes of dullness, and as they both fall on to the couch, turned to one another but miles away mentally, he wonders if he should have left everything as it was. Looking at Sunggyu now, with all the years gone, he's a different man, face that much older, demeanor that much different. He wonders vaguely if it's the same for him, if they can even make it work out anymore.

Sunggyu takes a deep breath, and he closes his eyes.

* * *

Sunggyu's words float on through his ears as his head tilts back into the cushion of the couch, staring at the white nothingness of the ceiling and sinking in Sunggyu's voice as his story goes on. When Sunggyu falters, his hand slides across the distance between them, grabbing on to fingers that stiffen and then bend into his embrace.

"I don't have any  _good_  reasons," Sunggyu explains. "I have excuses. Twisted beliefs. Fear. But if you want me to, I'll tell you about those. If it gives you some comfort."

The clock in the hallway tick tocks in the silence that follows, as Sunggyu collects either his thoughts or his courage. His eyes remain anywhere but Sunggyu's face, an emotional partition both of them probably need at the moment. The laced fingers are enough to keep them from drifting apart.

Sunggyu starts from the beginning, seemingly ages ago when they first met. Parts of this story aren't new; he knows as well as any of them Sunggyu's constant anxiety about the need to protect them, his responsibility in preventing scandals and accepting them as well. It isn't brought up, but his own scandal and the talk Sunggyu had had with him after he had evaded him for weeks is dredged up in his mind, and certainly Sunggyu's mind, too. The path of the conversation is obvious to him - Sunggyu is saying all this to illustrate why he ignored everything that was between them, to keep them safe.

Sunggyu readily admits that, in his mind, it was too dangerous. Too risky to even put thought to. That their lives were too temperamental - in an industry where so much as being perceived as giving off attitude was enough to drag a whole band through the mud, any sort of hint they were involved would have been enough to affect everyone, not just the members, but the company, their families, their friends. Part of him understands this, accepts it for what it is, but another part still lashes out they could have made it work, could have kept it between them.

"I have always felt this way, and I'm sorry I never told you," Sunggyu says evenly, and it takes a moment for the meaning to sink in before his eyes fly open.

"Excuse me? You didn't speak to me for two years!" he says, and Sunggyu's eyes are anywhere but his face. "You _always_  felt this way? You lived a great life for two years while acting like I didn't even exist, going out with your girlfriends and traveling the world and all that shit! If it weren't for you basically stalking me, I'd think you hadn't thought of me since that day at all."

"I did not stalk-" Sunggyu starts, but he cuts him off.

"So you just randomly knew where I lived? Why were you waiting outside?"

"Well, I mean...I asked. Of course."

"When you said you'd come to me, I thought I was going to be spending 30 minutes trying to guide through all the back alleys on the phone. You knew where I lived beforehand, right? You knew where I was the whole time." He's livid, and it's such a stupid point to argue over, but he can't think straight. He wants Sunggyu to beg on his knees, wants Sunggyu to prove him that he was right, wants justification and consolation and anything to make up for the fact that Sunggyu felt this way the whole time and purposely threw it away for reasons he comprehends but cannot accept.

"I just wanted to know you were safe," Sunggyu says as a roundabout answer, and he laughs at how empty it sounds.

"That's still fucking creepy!"

"What exactly do you want from me, Myungsoo?"

"To admit you were wrong! That this is all really, really wrong, Sunggyu."

He's seen Sunggyu every level of mad there is, furious, enraged, screaming and throwing things and getting in people's faces, but the look Sunggyu gives him is beyond that, a look so incandescent he stops breathing for a moment, the bluster of his anger blown out like a candle. Sunggyu stands up slowly, feet barely making a sound as they slide along the floor, and as Sunggyu gets closer to the wall, all he can stupidly think is that he hopes Sunggyu doesn't punch it, because he just painted it last week.

He barely recognizes the voice at first, so unlike Sunggyu, so not human-like in any capacity. It's raw emotion, poured our like molten lava, and he isn't prepared for how it makes him feel.

"I have neglected the very most desire of my heart for eight years. Eight. Years. I have lied myself into continuing my life, only to live a shell of what I could have. I have deceived every person I have ever had any relationship with by promising loyalty and integrity only to leave them, without an explanation, I might add, because what was I supposed to say? That I was mentally hung up on a man I had purposely and intentionally discarded under the pretense of keeping both of us safe, only to invariably fuck the both of us up? I have had every member of the band I dedicated my everything to for years cut me out of their lives because they could not handle my choices, including my obsessive need to constantly know about your well-being, to the point of alienating them. I have made my life miserable, because I was afraid. I have killed myself in an attempt to protect you, but I have ruined everything along the way. And beyond that, I have hurt you. I have neglected you, over fears that once seemed justified, and that has in turn wounded you more than anything else. And even when I learned it was happening, I turned my back on you, hiding away from accepting responsibility. I have failed, so completely, so extensively, that I cannot even begin to find the words to explain why I did it in the first place. So I'm sorry, Myungsoo. "

There's an eternal pause, in which the world seemingly stops and he's not even sure his heart is beating anymore. An exhaustion sinks in, beyond just the 20-hour day he endured, and he rubs at his eyes, feeling the weight of a thousand feelings all at once lying on his chest. "I don't know, Sunggyu."

Sunggyu turns around, fury replaced by fear, but he has no consolation to soothe the panic that crosses Sunggyu's face. "What do you mean, you don't know?" Sunggyu asks, and he looks so tiny and vulnerable now, nothing like the man in black that swept through his doorway just an hour ago.

"I need time to think about this all. To let it sink in."

Sunggyu's face is a mirror of what he imagines he looked like years ago, a face expecting abandonment, and he thinks that should make him feel empathetic, but it doesn't. He stands up, looking down the hall, and Sunggyu follows his gaze.

"You want me to leave," Sunggyu says, and it's a statement, not a question, but Sunggyu's voice trembles as he says it.

His answer is to move out of the living room, waiting for Sunggyu to follow. It takes a moment, as if Sunggyu's debating standing his ground and resisting, but then he gives in, following him to the door without a word, haunting him again as they stand side by side while Sunggyu puts his shoes back on.

"Will you call me?" Sunggyu asks, standing on the bottom step outside the door. Suddenly, Sunggyu looks every bit of 31 years old, dark circles under his eyes and stubble highlighting a thorough exhaustion beyond just that of being overworked. Sunggyu stands under the fluorescent halo of the porch light, looking up at him from under hooded eyes in desperation and what he thinks might be hope, and it opens up a flood of memories. Sunggyu's never been perfect, fragile and open and temperamental all rolled into one, and as he stands here now, looking needy and a bit pissed-off, just like he always has, he feels his heart lurch at the consistency and the way it makes him feel deep within. As if this scene could have been lifted from this time and placed back years ago, Sunggyu stands before him the same man deep down, an identical copy of the man he fell in love with a long time ago.

"Yes. I will."

* * *

Sungyeol comes in while he's ripping out the cabinets in the half-bath downstairs; it's not uncommon for Sungyeol to let himself in, but usually he has the good sense to let him know beforehand. As it is, he nearly drops the sledgehammer on his foot, and the near miss does little to better his foul mood.

"I see you've made time to begin on this thing," Sungyeol muses, one eyebrow raised in speculation, and he wipes away the sweat getting in his eyes on the back of his glove. Sungyeol's obviously waiting for an invitation to a conversation he doesn't really want to begin.

"Are you going to stand there and gape at me like a moron, or are you going to help?"

With Sungyeol, the job goes faster (and seems that much more productive). Everyone in his life has had some part in rebuilding his house, but Sungyeol's fingerprints are everywhere, a reminder of the stability Sungyeol has brought to his life in the last few tentative years.

The boxes with the new cabinets are sitting in his garage, but he leaves them there. Sungyeol didn't come here to play handyman, and the fact he's not pressing with his real intentions is nothing short of a god damn miracle. For all his impetus, Sungyeol knows when to take his foot of the gas, and he lets him sit down and drink a glass of water before clearing his throat.

"Don't start with me. You know what happened already," he says before Sungyeol can speak, and Sungyeol, being the asshole he is, just laughs at his grumpiness. He hides his own smile behind the rim of his glass, hating how easily Sungyeol pulls him in to whatever emotion he's feeling, like a moth drawn to a flame.

"I know things from one perspective. I'd like to hear it from the other side now," Sungyeol says impartially, and he lowers the glass enough to scowl in Sungyeol's direction, letting him know how he really feels.

"Whatever. He came here, did his whole 'I don't have reasons, I'm just sorry' thing, and I told him I'd think about it."

Sungyeol actually doesn't have anything to say to that, and he wonders how he's coming off at the moment, if he seems as bitter as he feels. Apparently, it's poorly enough that Sungyeol seems unsure of what to do next.

"What- huh," Sungyeol says, tongue between his teeth when he catches on his words. "Did you expect something different?"

It's something he had thought about, lying on the couch watching TV, chasing evasive sleep after Sunggyu had left, flip-flopping between self-righteous anger and a sense of nostalgia blossoming into joy. What had he expected? What was Sunggyu supposed to say to him, to rectify this whole disaster? In some deep, selfish part of his heart, his response to that was something akin to concrete evidence they wouldn't have been safe, a study of the risks involved, perhaps a time machine to go back and do it all over again. Things that were impossible. Sungyeol knows him well enough to follow him down his thought pattern, and he doesn't particularly enjoy Sungyeol coming here, just to call him out.

Sungyeol's clairvoyance must have picked up on his wavelengths, because Sungyeol says it before he can try to justify his behavior. "Look," Sungyeol says, palms up on the table as if to say it's not on him. "I didn't come here to bully you into changing your mind, either way. Really, I meant what I had said - whatever makes you happy. But obviously...I mean, he really wants another chance. Sunggyu does. I'm not the one to make that call, I can't tell you to forgive him and, trust me, I can understand if you don't. But I know you're thinking about the other side of this, too. You can make him earn you trust again, if that's what you wanted; he can't change history, though. If you can't move on without him playing God and making everything go back in time to be redone like you would have seen fit, then tell him it won't work. That you don't want to see him again. Or that you don't want to see him, for any reason at all. You don't even have to give him a reason, if you don't feel like it. But remember, if you still find yourself thinking about him - he's only human, just like you are. And if you really still feel the same way, like you've said this whole time, then now's your chance to prove to yourself that you really meant that."

Sungyeol leaves him there alone, mouth hung wide open, to dwell on that.

* * *

It's been a long time since he stepped into this studio.

Jungyeop had asked him, in the intermediary of everyone going off and coming back from their services, if he wanted to do some solo work, and his prompt response had been a resounding "no" and that had been that. At one time, he would have been thrilled at the idea, but when it came down to it, he needed the time off, away from stages and press events and promotional bullshit they would have dragged him to.

He did do one duet for a movie he did, but the girl's company had asked for him to do it at their studio, much to his relief. The way the door handle feels in his hand is the same, and memories come flooding back in a flash. He could walk around here blindfolded; too many moments, singing the same damn line 'til he felt he were going crazy, Dongwoo making crazy faces at him through the class to get him to choke, Sunggyu and Jungyeop and the recording staff observing his takes like a prison warden.

The smell's the same. The wood beneath his feet. The sound of Sunggyu's singing coming from behind the door.

It takes a moment to gather his nerves, and he pushes too hard at the handle, flying into the room when the door gives way. The singing stops, and when he looks up, Sunggyu is wide-eyed, sheet of paper clutched tightly in one stiff hand.

"The hell?"

"Hey. When did you realize how you felt about me?"

Sunggyu kind of shakes his head, as if he were an apparition that would disappear upon second glance. When that doesn't work, Sunggyu comes over, dragging him into the studio and closing the door behind them.

"How did you even find me? It's 3 am..." Sunggyu says with a certain amount of incredulity, and he rights himself, standing firmly in front of Sunggyu with purpose.

"Called Gonam. Woke him up. He was very angry. Anyway, he said you  _should_  be at home. I asked him where you lived, he gave me the address. And your passcode. I went, you weren't there. Fire your interior decorator, by the way, your place looks like a funeral hall. You weren't home, obviously, but Gonam said to leave you alone when I called him because you are finishing up your album and you're very stressed. You didn't tell me about your album. But...right! I figured you had to be here. So now I'm here. When did you realize?"

Sunggyu looks shell-shocked, and it takes a good minute for him to come back to himself. "I...see you still get chatty when you're overtired."

"I see you still deflect from yourself when you feel you're under pressure."

"Okay, whatever," Sunggyu says, closing his eyes as if in deep thought. "It was when...oh." Sunggyu eyes open slowly, and what he sees surprises him. It's regret, maybe, but mostly, it's shame.

"Yeah?" he urges, and Sunggyu rolls his eyes.

Sunggyu throws up a hand in defeat. "Uh, 2013, I guess."

"No, the moment you reali-"

"Why does it matter?" Sunggyu cuts him off.

"Tell me and I'll explain."

"I- ugh." Sunggyu looks at him, and he looks back, trying hard as possible to convey through his look that he's not giving up until he gets an answer. "When you started dating that girl."

It's not what he expects to hear. Sunggyu's also been so in control, so hidden away when he thought it would burden them, that the lines were always blurred between what he was revealing to them and what he was slipping into their conversations, just so they believed they knew something going on inside his head. Looking back, Sunggyu never changed, not a single part of his demeanor giving any inclination he was anything less than impartial about his relationship.

"Oh. Were you jealous?"

"No, I was devastated," Sunggyu says, shooting him a look that seems to say ' _fuck you for reminding me though._ '

"I never knew."

"You weren't supposed to."

The emotion is so raw, so heavy that he wants to apologize to Sunggyu, to say sorry that Sunggyu ever felt the pressure to hide his heart away from everyone, probably himself included, and that makes him realize something. That, despite all his bitterness and confusion and general turmoil at the reintroduction of Sunggyu into his life, there's still a need in him to protect Sunggyu, to heal all the wounds they gave each other, both in the past and now, in these last few weeks.

Sunggyu's waiting for him to continue, and it feels like his life is falling back into it's old pattern, of him and Sunggyu sitting together, late at night, Sunggyu's constructed grumpiness and his melting heart, watching Sunggyu watch him. It's so comforting, he smiles, just because it's been so long since he can think of Sunggyu without being miserable.

"I forgot what I was saying," he says dreamily, and Sunggyu hits his head against the back of the chair with a "Jesus fucking Christ."

"Oh! Wait. It was something about...when I realized how I felt about you, it was gradual but all at once. I mean, like, it had happened to gradually that I looked over at you one day and I realized every single part of you was so endearing to me and that was it. I was done for. I'm so mad at you, for what you did, but I keep getting these little fragments from you that remind me of who you were."

"Okay..."

"Basically, it's still you. I don't know what I'm saying...you're still the same. You're still the same person, deep inside. I want to keep seeing that. There's a connection, between the moment I realized and now, and maybe I should turn you away because I think some people would say I can't trust you not to leave me again. But I want to see if it's going to be the same feeling again, the affection. I think it is. Why I asked it because...I mean, do you feel the same kind of feeling? Like you remembered after all this time why you felt the way to begin with?"

Sunggyu looks up at him with those eyes that seem to know everything and smiles a little, a smile that doesn't give him an answer but gives him something, reassurance or hope or comfort. His hands reach out, and Sunggyu doesn't miss the signs they all picked up on so long ago, the restless movements that meant he needed just a little physical solace. This time, he wants to be held, wants to be surrounded by Sunggyu, and he can't help from nuzzling his face into Sunggyu's neck, feeling whole.

He wants to see Sunggyu's face, almost to reassure himself that Sunggyu's here and wanting him. Sunggyu lets him takes his face between his hands, fingers stroking cheekbones just as evidence this moment is real and tangible, and he doesn't think before he presses his mouth to Sunggyu's, feeling his breath against his face. It's chaste, a question of a kiss, but he when he draws back to see the reaction, Sunggyu just sighs, before pulling him in again, giving him all the answers he wanted.

* * *

It's easy to sink into a hazy daydream in between his takes on set. He situates himself on a black box used to transport the lights, head nestled against a speaker, and lets his mind float down a river of semi-consciousness. In the faraway outskirts of his awareness, he can vaguely hear Jiwon and Hyunmin flubbing their lines, maybe intentionally, and he lets himself sink deeper; they won't be calling him back over anytime soon.

His phone vibrates by his head on the plastic, sending waves of feeling against his skull. He's tempted to ignore it; the only person he's willing to interrupt a nap for has been too busy to talk, stretched thin for his album release. Still, it's his work phone, and no one calling him on this line will take kindly to being ignored.

"Hello?" he asks as groggily as possible, hoping to illustrate the disturbed slumber he was attempting to find peace in. The feeling disappears completely when he hears Jungyeop's voice; it's rare he gets a call, and only when important things are going on.

"Myungsoo. I know you're free tonight, because I asked your manager. Come celebrate with us."

He knows who 'us' implies. Over time, Jungyeop had just stopped asking him to come around. Luckily, schedules got him out of a lot of it, but he never made excuses for the other times. He couldn't explain anything, felt no compulsion to lie, so he simply said "I can't" and Jungyeop gave up eventually.

Now, he wonders where the invitation originates from. Sungyeol had sworn even Jungyeop hadn't know any of it, Sunggyu not feeling confident enough in Jungyeop's reaction to confide in him. That does little to stop him from finding it a little too convenient that Jungyeop's popping up now, inviting him out of the blue after months of leaving him be.

"Oh, what are celebrating?" he asks, voice level and disinterested, and Jungyeop laughs at his pettiness, apparently not put off in the least.

"Look, everyone said they'd be there.  _Everyone_. Sungjong's in town, Dongwoo's coming after his recording ends, come on, Myungsoo. Look, I know you hate these types of things, but when's the last time you were all together? I wouldn't ask if it didn't feel right for you to be there, too."

His heart flips at the thought. It's the first time in years he can face meeting everyone again, altogether.

"Okay, okay, but what are we celebrating?"

"Sunggyu's numbers came out. 53,000 isn't so bad for the first week. At least, not for an old guy like him, with a self-produced album. But if you come,  _do not_  tell him he's a failure."

He sits straight up, dragged out of half-consciousness in a moment. It's not bad at all, not after a hiatus, and especially not considering it's the first time Sunggyu's produced his own album. It's something to be proud of, ecstatically so, and he laughs like an idiot when tears come to his eyes.

"Is that a yes, then?" Jungyeop presses, and he doesn't hesitate.

"Yeah, I'll be there."

* * *

He gets there a little later than almost everyone else, and from the bottles littered across the table, he knows they're going hard. He tries to squeeze in the empty space by Howon, but is promptly booted out with a smile and an excuse the seat is being saved for Dongwoo. Howon suggests he move down the table and pushes him off in that direction, and when he sees Sunggyu, turned away into a conversation with Junghoon, he curses Howon's meddling.

The polite thing to do, of course, would be to greet Sunggyu immediately and offer his congratulations; he's just a little too nervous, a little too ready to puke his guts out, to even think about it. Unfortunately for him, a rowdy Jungyeop spots him before he can hide by a staff member, and motions him over hurriedly with a boisterous "hey! come over here!"

Sunggyu's still turned away when he makes his way over, and he bows to Jungyeop and Jongwan in greeting. Jongwan meets his eye, giving him a look he can't decipher because Jongwan is just so damn unreadable, and he worries at the thought of what it might be. Jungyeop might be clueless, but he'd bet his ass Jongwan knows a good bit of the story, probably more than he knows at this point.

"Come sit!" Jungyeop says, not giving him an option, and Jungyeop slaps at Sunggyu's arm, drawing his attention. "Look who finally showed up after all this time!"

Sunggyu turns around slowly, obviously expecting some label exec or something, and the look of utter shock rivals the one in the studio weeks ago. Jongwan seemingly hums a deep laugh into his glass beside Sunggyu, and he barely gets a bow in before Jungyeop drags him down next to Sunggyu. He crosses his legs under the low table, feeling unsure of himself.

"You two probably have a lot of catching up to do. Eat! Celebrate! Enjoy tonight!"

The understatement is massive, but it at least gives him an idea of how much Jungyeop knows (or, rather, doesn't know). He's sure now isn't the time or place to do it, but it doesn't matter anyway; it's too hard to get a word in edgewise. Sunggyu's attention is constantly being pulled away by a myriad of people dropping in to congratulate him, and he doesn't think he says a single thing for a whole hour. Sunggyu seems to be keeping an eye on him, enough to push a plate in front of him and command him to eat, but then someone else crouches down to talk to him, and he ends up staring off into space.

It's exactly what he wanted, and it makes him feel miserable.

He had hoped for a way out, an extension before facing Sunggyu publically, returning to a semblance of their former selves for others to see too, and now he's here, essentially ignored out of necessity, and all he wants it for Sunggyu to cut out the world for a moment and just look at him. It's selfish, self-aborbed if anything (this is  _Sunggyu's_  night), and Sungyeol's words come back to haunt him. He's flawed. He knows better, but he still wants more.

There's a reprieve for a moment, and Sunggyu glances over, perhaps sensing his feelings of abandonment. Someone else has noticed the lull in conversation and is heading over, but Sunggyu slides a hand under the table, running along the inside of his thigh before settling just above the junction of his knee, squeezing the muscle there reassuringly. It's a stupid gesture, simple, but his fingers clench into fists in his lap. The sensation of Sunggyu's fingers, hot through the thin material of his slacks, burns like a brand, and he feels the blood go straight to his dick. Sunggyu's fingers strum absentmindedly against his thigh while turned to one of the band members for his album, and he sits there, consumed by a fire only a 16-year-old in the throes of puberty should feel. Jungyeop pinches at his cheek, remarking how the alcohol makes him blush, and he's ready to burn this whole place down to the ground.

As soon as the congratulations end, the farewells begin, and it repeats all over again, an endless stream of people drawing Sunggyu's attention away. His head presses the table, mostly out of frustration; frustration at the distance between him and Sunggyu. Frustration at Sunggyu's wandering hand, which has begun rubbing up the the inside of his leg higher and higher, leaving him no doubt Sunggyu knows exactly what he's doing and had decided being an asshole is a fine way to spend the evening.

Sungyeol comes to say goodbye, head titled in confusion at the pained look on his face before he's dragged away by Howon, laughing, when he catches what he thinks is going on. The party room clears out, 30 people, then 15, then 6, and Jungyeop makes sure they don't need rides home before paying the tab and heading out. Waiters come in, cleaning up tables, but he remains steady until the last stragglers bid goodnight, 15 minutes later, Sunggyu's hand making circles high on the inside of his thigh, rounding closer and closer.

When they're finally alone, all his threats of vengeance and murder come out in a tumble, and Sunggyu laughs hysterically, leaning back enough to look at the evidence of his arousal, straining through his pants, and that makes him laugh even harder.

"If you want to leave here anytime soon, I'd suggest you stop almost fondling my balls," he hisses, and Sunggyu's hand pops off in an instant. They sit staring at each other for a moment, and then he's laughing, too, so happy and content that he wants to put his head in Sunggyu's shoulder and cry a little. He promises himself he can do all of that later.

"Better yet?" Sunggyu asks a little later, and he looks down, giving him a shrug.

"Close enough."

"Let's get out of here."

* * *

They end up at his place, because Sunggyu's apartment feels like a museum and his house feels like home.

Words are scarce between them; their feelings are communicated between brushed fingertips, arms around waists, a pair of lips pressed under the other's ear. They celebrate Sunggyu with a bottle of champagne, a 2008 vintage brut some TV exec told him wouldn't be best until 2017 as he shoved it into his hands at a cast party; he grimaces it down as Sunggyu rolls the stem of the glass between his fingers before swallowing it delicately. Sunggyu's throat works, adam's apple sliding under the skin, and he puts down his glass a little too hard, drawing Sunggyu's glance and knowing, speculative smile.

It's all very slow, in a hazy way. Sunggyu draws him onto his lap, hands on his face when he draws him down to press their mouths together. Unlike before, he melts into it, tongue edging the soft flesh of Sunggyu's bottom lip, opening him up; Sunggyu tastes like braised pork ribs, pheromone-laced saliva, and sweet champagne, albeit a hundred thousand times more intoxicating. Swimming, slow thoughts float around his head, but he pays no attention to anything except the way Sunggyu's tongue slides against his.

Fingers dip under a collar, tracing bones and undoing buttons from their holes. A small finger strays from the hands on his hips, spread low under the waist of his sweatpants, stroking the hot skin it finds there. Need grows insistently, hand working on its own accord as it reaches for a wrist and shoves down, sliding Sunggyu's whole hand under the waistband to cup at his ass. Sunggyu obliges automatically, fingertips bruising as they grab at the flesh, and his mouth falls open, the response loud and shocking to his own ears.

Everything changes in a heartbeat; slow turns fast as Sunggyu pulls him down into the couch, warm body nestled between his thighs. Skin slides against skin, hands smooth over muscles. The remaining ounces of champagne are upended on his chest, lukewarm liquid seeming cold against heated skin as it slides in the valleys of his stomach, pooling in his navel. Sunggyu hovers over him, tongue peeking out to lap at it, and he thinks he's very well died, because this is heaven. A hot mouth devours the flat of his stomach, the junction of his leg, leaving teeth marks on the soft skin inside his thigh.

It's everything all at once. The hot of Sunggyu's mouth on his nipple. The cold of air blown against it by Sunggyu's mouth. Stickiness of Sunggyu's precum in the space between thumb and forefinger after he strokes him roughly, just to watch Sunggyu's face grimace. Pressure of Sunggyu's fingers, curled inside him. Pain and pleasure and glory and infiniteness, an unerasable moment when Sunggyu is over him, within him, wide hands holding him up and open and vulnerable and safe.

"You were always mine," Sunggyu says, leaning down to speak it against trembling lips. "Always mine. I should have come back. I should have given myself to you sooner. You're mine, I'm yours. It's always been like that, right? Always."

It's not so much profession as it is confession. When Sunggyu's long since passed out on his chest, he thinks about the weight of the words. There's still a long, uncharted path he and Sunggyu have to walk down, one that's shadowed by doubts that leave little room for guarantees. But there's something so genuine and concrete about this moment, about the heaviness of Sunggyu's head on his chest, about the comfortable intimacy of it all. At least, for now, it's real.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really wanted to make this super angsty but I couldn't make myself do it
> 
> enjoy the uncertain but promising future of myunggyu instead


End file.
